


and i fall in love just a little bit

by and_hera



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anxiety, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, lil bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_hera/pseuds/and_hera
Summary: Well, Neil figures, there’s no need to dodge the subject. “I’m in love with you.”Andrew blinks, once, twice, never giving away his emotions on his face but his hands have gone perfectly still.or, a series of events following Neil’s freshman year.





	and i fall in love just a little bit

**Author's Note:**

> i love they!! i LOVE they!! i LOVE THEY!! I LOVE THEY!!
> 
> title taken from someone new by hozier
> 
> tw: a panic attack, one like. allusion to them being ~spicy~ but nothing explicit, i think that’s all

“Hey,” Andrew says, his voice impossibly soft.

Neil is perfectly silent. He’s afraid but that if he even moves, he’ll disturb the scene in front of him.

Andrew is lounging on the couch—his legs are fully extended but he barely takes up half the space—with Sir on his lap, purring and purring and purring. And despite the rivalry Andrew always seems to talk about, despite his complaints about Sir’s orange hair getting all over his black-on-black getup, he is gently rubbing behind Sir’s ears. His bands are off. His hair is messy. Neil thinks he might see the faintest trace of a smile on his face. Is he—  _ humming _ ?

If he thought he could do so without making the unnecessarily loud floorboards creak beneath him, Neil would have started recording this as soon as he entered the room. But the slightest shift in his feet might alert Andrew to his presence, and he wants to enjoy this peacefulness for a moment longer.

“Oh, you wanna sit down, huh?” Andrew mutters, his voice flat. “You’re a terrible animal. Bastard cat. Demon.” Andrew strokes down Sir’s back. 

Sir takes this as a “yes” and curls into a ball on Andrew’s broad chest. He leans out and licks Andrew’s wrist, his scars.

Neil sees Andrew stiffen, sees a wall start to rise, but then maybe Andrew realizes it’s just a cat. Maybe Andrew decides that it’s not worth the fight. Sir keeps trying to clean Andrew’s arms, and he lets him.

Neil chooses now to make his move.

He lets the floorboards make all the noise he wants, and though Andrew doesn’t move, he knows Neil is there.

“I see you’re bonding,” Neil comments, and Andrew glares at him. Neil thinks that if Andrew wasn’t unwilling to ruin Sir’s comfort, Neil would probably be in mortal peril. “Just pointing it out.”

“I hate you,” Andrew says, but they both know he doesn’t mean it. They know he isn’t serious (especially when he’s stroking a fat cat) (and allowing him to clean his scars) (and looking at Neil like that).

“Did I make it to 200% yet?”

“250.”

(later that night they’re in bed, closer than they need to be based on its size. andrew has his arm under neil’s pillow, as he is prone to doing. 

neil feels something warm by his legs, and cranes his neck to see king sleeping between the two of them.

“since when do they share the bed,” neil asks sleepily, and andrew grabs his chin and brings him back to the bed to kiss him.

it’s an effective way to shut him up.)

“Hey,” Neil says, sitting on the counter. Andrew is sitting across from him. There’s a carton of ice cream between them and they both have spoons.

Neil isn’t sure how to address this  _ thing _ with Andrew.

No, that isn’t it. He knows how to. He just isn’t sure if he wants to.

They’ve been together for two years now. They had a rough start, and exy hasn’t given them the chance to really slow down, but they’ve been together too long to not know how the other ticks.

Which is why Neil suspects Andrew is paying such close attention to him tonight. Neil is displaying perfect signs of “disappearing into head for hours again” symptoms and he knows it.

“I know, I know,” Neil says, talking as though in a middle of a conversation despite no words being said in the last hour. “I’m fine for real this time, though. I’ve just been thinking.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow.

Well, Neil figures, there’s no need to dodge the subject. “I’m in love with you.”

Andrew blinks, once, twice, never giving away his emotions on his face but his hands have gone perfectly still. 

“I know you probably don’t want to— I know that word probably doesn’t— You don’t have to say it back,” Neil says quickly after. He’s. He’s not scared, but he’s worried, now, which surprises even him. Neil isn’t one to regret things he says, really. Usually.

Andrew hold’s Neil’s gaze for a beat, and then in one fluid motion drops the spoon, slides off the counter, and leaves the apartment, almost silently. 

(he leaves the door open behind him, though. neil knows where he’s going.)

“Hey,” Neil calls.

He’s on the roof, of course. It’s still their place. His feet dangling off the edge despite his fear of heights, a cigarette between his fingers. Neil sits beside him and is bold enough to steal it from him, managing to inhale some of the smoke before Andrew takes it back.

They’re quiet, and Neil doesn’t try to fill the silence. He knows Andrew will talk when he’s ready.

It’s another minute or so before he does finally speak: “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you—“ his voice cuts off, not quite  _ cracking _ but something close— “why?”

On any other day, maybe Neil would have made him say it, made him ask exactly what he means, but not today. “Because,” he says, his voice tasting bitter in his mouth. “Because you are a mystery that I think I’m starting to learn. Because you take off your bands when we’re together. Because you cuddle with the cats when I’m not home. Because you said you’re not my answer, but I’m starting to wonder if that’s true.”

Andrew takes a drag. “People aren’t answers, junkie.”

“Then— then let’s find our answers together, instead.” He takes the cigarette again and doesn’t let Andrew have it back. “Andrew—“

“Don’t.”

So he doesn’t. He shuts his mouth and waits. Andrew, seeing as Neil won’t give him his cigarette back, pulls out another one from his pocket. He closes his eyes and swings his legs so they hit the wall of the apartment building. Neil studies him.

“She was the only one who told me that,” Andrew says, and Neil knows he’s talking about Cass. And of course she was, because Andrew and his eidetic memory would remember any other time he had been told he was loved. And of course it was Cass.

“You know, being loved isn’t a weakness,” Neil replies cautiously. 

Andrew doesn’t deign to respond.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Neil says again. “I just thought you deserved to know.”

Andrew exhales, deeply. He had been holding his breath.

“You really think I haven’t— I haven’t been in love with you this whole time, Abram?” Andrew says, his voice low. “I thought I made it pretty clear.”

Neil blinks. Andrew kindly doesn’t mention the way his breath catches.

“Well,” Neil begins, knowing that if he makes a big deal out of it Andrew will shut down again, “I’ve never been good at putting the pieces together. Maybe I need another example.”

“274%. Almost to 275.”

Neil leans in. Before he can even ask, Andrew meets him halfway.

(they’re in bed. the cats weren’t allowed in tonight.

“i love you, i love you, i love you,” neil had said, hands buried in andrew’s hair, chanting it into his mouth.

but only now, in the quiet calm, does andrew reply: “i love you, too.”

“i’m proud of you,” neil whispers sleepily.

“shut up.”)

“Hey,” Andrew says. He doesn’t touch Neil, which is probably good. Neil can feel his hands shaking violently. “Breathe, Neil.”

Neil tries. He does. He can get enough air in his lungs to not fall over but he’s hyperventilating. His eyes are closed. His back is against the wall— he doesn’t know where he is. The information isn’t important enough to remember.

He feels something just barely touch the back of his neck, and when he doesn’t say no, Andrew rests his hand there more heavily. “In and out, junkie,” he says, with more force. “You’re not gonna pass out on me. You know better.”

Neil knows Andrew won’t hurt him. But something about the threat steadies him. He gets a breath in.

His throat hurts. He takes another shaky breath. Another. He opens his eyes. Andrew is in front of him. 

He looks. Worried. This a development. Neil slides to the floor and looks around: he’s in the Palmetto locker room, but he isn’t sure where the team is. There—there was a game, he thinks. 

“Where are they?” he asks, and he isn’t sure who he means— the team, his father’s men, the Moriyamas. Andrew stares at him with a look that would be indecipherable to anyone but Neil.

“I made them leave,” Andrew says, speaking more carefully than Neil usually sees. “They’re on the bus.”

“Oh,” Neil breathes. “I’m sor-“

“Don’t.”

“Okay.”

Andrew takes his hand from Neil’s neck— Neil had almost forgotten it was there but now he misses its steadiness— and taps the back of Neil’s hand. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Andrew laces his fingers through Neil’s. He brings his hand to his lips and pauses, and when Neil doesn’t stop him, he kisses it.

“It was when my knee,” Neil says, quietly. “When the dealer made it buckle. And then it wouldn’t work.”

Andrew looks right at Neil, holding his gaze. 

“I was back in Baltimore,” Neil confesses. “I don’t know why. But I couldn’t run and I couldn’t get out.”

“Abby said nothing is damaged,” Andrew says.

“No,” Neil agrees. “It’s not a big deal. I’m fine.”

“Don’t say that, either.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not fine. I’ve said this. But you’re better.”

“Okay.”

Andrew presses his forehead against Neil’s. “Your father is dead, Riko is dead, Ichirou can’t touch you anymore. I am still going to protect you.”

“I made you break the promise a long time ago, Drew.”

“This isn’t a promise,” Andrew says. “It’s. It’s love, Abram.”

Neil smiles, a little. “Andrew “I hate you” Minyard, everyone,” he whispers.

“Shut up.”

(the team comes back, of course. they were hurried out, and several of them left their bags. neil is still sitting quietly on the couch.

the freshmen are whispering, of course, as to why the feral senior kicked everyone out of the locker room, as to why their captain was left inside with him. neil hadn’t bothered to tell them about the relationship— they’ll figure it out eventually, he had figured.

andrew is still next to him. their fingers are still interlaced. neil has his head on andrew’s shoulder, a recent allowance that neil loves.

he’ll be okay, he thinks, looking at his teammates who all send him tentative smiles. he’ll be okay.)

“Hey,” Andrew says, and it sounds like something Neil would say. He looks up from his phone to see him standing in the kitchen, staring at the counter.

“Yeah?” he asks.

Andrew doesn’t move. Neil can see him breathing maybe a little too fast than he should be and is preparing to worry when Andrew speaks: “Marry me,” he says. “Yes or no.”

“Oh,” Neil breathes.

Andrew’s looking up now, meeting Neil’s eyes. If Neil didn’t know that Andrew doesn’t waste time on things like regret, he might wonder if Andrew looked nervous.

And well, Neil doesn’t really need to think about what he wants. He was already planning to spend his whole life with this man. If Andrew is ready to make this official, Neil will join him.

“It’s always a yes with you,” he replies simply. 

(“did you even get a ring,” neil asks, grinning. 

“what kind of fiancé do you take me for,” andrew replies easily. oh, does that word make neil’s heart shudder. “here. and stop smiling like that.”

he tosses a package to neil, who catches it on instinct. he stalks out of the room.

“like i’m in love?” neil calls, still smiling. andrew doesn’t deign to respond.

it’s simple, a thin golden band. but when neil looks closer, when he turns it around in his hand, there’s a key engraved on the inside.)

“Hey,” Neil says quietly, tapping on the headphone in Andrew’s ear to wake him up. He shifts but doesn’t fully wake. Neil figures he’ll get out of bed soon enough and heads to the kitchen of their apartment.

Today is a rare off day, where practice isn’t mandatory. Neil wonders if it was luck or fate that let the day be today. The realistic part of him knows it was probably just a coincidence, but an idealistic voice in his head— one that’s been speaking louder and louder, lately, the piece of shit— wonders if it was meant to be.

Just as he expected, Andrew pads into the room, his socked feet silent on the floor. 

Neil slides him a plate with waffles and a scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream across the counter. “Happy off day.”

Andrew somehow pulls off a sleepy yet annoyed expression. “Happy anniversary,” he retorts, and Neil grins.

“Happy anniversary,” he agrees, points at the food. “I didn’t even run today. I made fucking pancakes.”

“What a sacrifice.”

“I burnt like, a whole batch. I had to make more batter.”

“I hate you.”

Neil is smiling, smiling, smiling. He doesn’t think anything could make him happier than this moment. “I love you,” he replies.

Andrew walks around the counter until he’s face to face with Neil. “Yes or no,” he says.

“Yes,” Neil says immediately. It’s not like they ask every time anymore. They trust each other enough to tell the other to stop. But it’s still a habit, still an impulse sometimes.

Andrew kisses him. It’s gentle, slow— Neil remembers the time he thought Andrew didn’t care about him, the time he believed Andrew’s apathy was a gift.

Oh, how oblivious he was.

“The team wants to come over later,” Neil murmurs against his lips. “Dan and Matt, Renee and Allison, Aaron and Katelyn, Kevin— I think some of them are still miffed he didn’t exactly have a wedding.”

“Tell them no,” Andrew says, and kisses Neil again.

Neil laughs, drawing back just enough to look into his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s an off day,” Andrew replies. “No entertaining today. They’ll survive.”

“Okay,” Neil agrees. “No visitors today. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Andrew echoes. “I suppose tomorrow will do.”

“Your pancakes are getting cold.”

“The fucking pancakes.”

“The fucking pancakes.”

Neil laughs, again, and presses his forehead to Andrew’s. 

“Maybe the pancakes can wait until tomorrow, too,” Neil whispers, and Andrew leans in.


End file.
